


Beautiful

by LuckyPenny36



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley make consent sexy, Bookshop After Hours, Communication is Sexy, Consent is Sexy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grooming As Comfort, Learning to Fly, Multi, NSFW, Shakespeare, aziraphale and crowley are married, new start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-01-27 08:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyPenny36/pseuds/LuckyPenny36
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley work together to help a chance acquaintance re-discover what it means to be beautiful with unexpected results.“I didn’t say no, Angel.”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley & Original Character, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. Hello, Mr. Fell

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy watching Aziraphale and Crowley work together to make a difference for a young woman down on her luck and convinced she isn’t worthy of help or even paying attention to.
> 
> LuckyPenny36

“Hello… Mr. Fell?”

Crowley knows Aziraphale tries to dissuade humans, customers at least, from lingering in the shop too long. Despite purporting to be a Bookshop owner, his Angel is obviously loathe to part with any of his books. He also knows he isn’t going to send this one away just yet, though even to himself he isn’t about to admit why. He shoves a hand roughly through his fiery red hair. The day is damp and drizzly, a typical London summer, and the young woman has clearly been out in it for too long. Her plait hangs down limply, barely swaying at all, and her jumpsuit is soaked, clinging and bunching awkwardly as she approaches the desk.

“He’s not in right now. Was he expecting you today?”

“Not exactly. I mean he said I could come by when I needed to, but we didn’t precisely agree on a time or anything.” The words tumble out in a headlong rush, and her manner is well… scattered and at the same time defiantly hopeful.

“I see. I suppose you couldn’t come back later today or even tomorrow?”

She turns to face him for the first time. “I don’t know, maybe.” Her red-rimmed eyes and forced smile shouting all too clearly what she won’t – she could come back another time, but only if she absolutely has to, and even then she’s not sure she’ll make it back.

“Mmm hmm,” Crowley nods, keeping his face carefully noncommittal. “You could come back later, but you’d rather what, wait here?”

She sighs and looks pointedly out the window, “It would be drier…”

Crowley stifles a laugh. “Honestly, you don’t look like you could get much wetter.”

Her face crumples, and she starts to back towards the door. “Never mind, I… I should never have come.” Turning, she runs… straight into Crowley.

“What the…”

“Hush. If Mr. Fell said you should come, then of course, you should be here. He never said anything to me about it that’s all.”

“I don’t get it.” Her eyes cloud with obvious confusion, and her lower lip starts to quiver in a way that Crowley finds oddly endearing. “Now, you don’t want me to go…”

Crowley steers her gently toward the couch, slides the pillows aside, and spreads out the thick, fluffy, towel that just materialized in his hand. “Sit down and wait. It’s true I don’t want you to go away like this, if only because I don’t want to think about what Mr. Fell would say if I did.”

Too dazed to even ask where it came from, she starts to pull the towel closer, then stops, and smooths it out flat once more. Silence stretches out between them, and Crowley, uncomfortably wishing that Aziraphale would bloody come back NOW please, straightens a few shelves that don’t really need straightening and fusses over the few succulents on the desk.

“Sarah Smith.”

“What?” Crowley spins around, expecting to see he doesn’t know what, but she is just sitting there right where he left her, hands folded in her lap, dripping.

“It’s my name. Plain old boring Sarah Smith.”

“If you say so. I’m AJ Crowley, Mr Fell’s, uh, partner. If you want to wait for him quietly that’s fine, or we could…”

“We don’t have to talk Mr. Crowley. I really am terribly sorry to intrude like this. Please just go on about your business and pretend I’m not here.”

“Suit yourself,” Crowley says shrugging, “Loo’s in the back if you need it. Do you want anything?”

Sarah shakes her head. She stays right where she is, perched on the edge of the sofa, ramrod straight, as if she still isn’t quite sure she should be here.

<>

At length, day drifts into evening, and Aziraphale bustles through the front door, hair sparkling with rain, a box of pastries from a nearby bakery under one arm. He closes the door carefully behind him, flips the sign to closed, calls out “Crow…,” and stops. Whatever he had been going to say to Crowley dies on his lips. “Hello Sarah. I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Is something wrong?” 

“Hello, Mr. Fell.” Sarah’s voice is flat, totally devoid of the usual human expression that one would expect, especially from someone who’s been waiting for hours for an acquaintance to return.

“Call me Ezra, please.”

“Right. Oh, Ezra, you said I should come by when I needed to…” Fresh tears roll down Sarah’s face, dripping on her jumpsuit which had just finally begun to dry.

Aziraphale thrusts the pastries onto a nearby table and kneels in front of her, eyes full of concern. “My dear, you look absolutely done in. Come now, let’s get you into a hot shower, and when you’re ready, I’ll have a mug of tea waiting. Then we can talk.”

“I, I, I couldn’t.”

He puts a firm hand under her elbow, coaxes her to stand, and begins walking her gently, but insistently toward the bathroom. “Nonsense, my dear. Come on, the shower’s this way, things will look a lot better once you finish. I promise.” 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley hisses as soon as she’s out of earshot. “What are you doing? That’s our private bathroom! Don’t you remember what else we keep in there?”

Aziraphale flushes a delicate shade of pink. “Oh my, I completely forgot. I’ll just…” He shakes his head as sounds of splashing fill the air. “Oh well, we’ll just have to hope she’s too preoccupied with her own problems to notice, doing anything about it now would just attract her attention.”

“Fine mess you’ve gotten us into. What ever made you give her such an open-ended invitation anyway Angel?”

“She needs help Crowley. I bumped into her in that little bakery down the street the other day and she was ordering one of those fancy expensive cakes they have in the window, you know the ones, full of espresso and dark chocolate with raspberry.” Aziraphale smiles a little at the memory, whether of the pastry or the encounter Crowley isn’t quite sure. “Anyway, I overheard her telling the clerk that it was a special treat for her fiancé and would he please keep it confidential.”

“So?”

“So, the fiancé’s a real cad. Not ten minutes later, he walked by the bakery with not one, not two, but three girls dripping off him, bragging about how he can have his cake and eat it too. You know the type, thinks he hung the moon and everyone should just drop everything they’re doing to hang on his every word. She deserves better.”

“And you’re going to do what exactly? Smite the guy?”

Aziraphale looks appalled. “Heavens no. I just want to give her some space to come to her senses. Realize the world has more to offer her than some idiot who thinks his shit doesn’t stink.”

Crowley puts his arms around his Angel. “So it’s Ezra Fell to the rescue again, huh? Ok. Did you want me to clear out for awhile or something? I’m getting the impression three might be a crowd for this one.”

Aziraphale smiles softly and snuggles into the embrace for a moment then pulls away and reaches for a pastry. “Not unless you really want to. I mean, I thought…”

“What, you want me to help her?”

“Not precisely…” Aziraphale’s face glows pink to the roots of his blond curls, making his brilliant blue eyes stand out even more.

“Then what? I’m just supposed to wait out here while you do your thing, like some demented towel boy?”

“NO!” Aziraphale flicks a playful swat at Crowley and misses, but just barely.

“Then what precisely do you want Angel? You know I’m on your side in this, but I can’t back your play if I don’t even bloody KNOW what it is!”

“I’m not sure exactly what happened between her and the Jerk to make her finally open her eyes to what he is, but…”

Crowley interrupts, his voice so low it’s almost a growl, “I think I can guess.”

Aziraphale grimaces, nods and continues, “You saw her today Crowley, she’s not unattractive, but her self-esteem is so low calling it subterranean would be an improvement. And I thought, given your expertise in all things seductive, maybe this time we could, I don’t know, help her together?”

“Angel! What has gotten into you today? I agree, she’s not unattractive as humans go, but… Do you know what you’re asking?”

Aziraphale frowns. “Forget it Crowley. You’re right. It’s a terrible idea. Pretend I never said anything.”

Crowley grabs his shoulders to pull him close and presses a deliciously tempting kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, then abruptly steps back until they are an arm’s length apart, keeping his hold on the angel firm. “I didn’t say no, Angel.”


	2. Cake vs. Pastry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens as Sarah opens up to Ezra and Crowley about what brought her to the Bookshop.
> 
> “I noticed you.”

Some thirty minutes later, Aziraphale is on his third pastry, and the pot of tea is slowly beginning to cool, when Sarah finally emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in a threadbare if functional bathrobe that Crowley had meant to throw out last week and clutching her still damp jumpsuit to her chest.

Crowley stares for a long moment open mouthed, unwilling to name the odd extremely demonic ideas beginning to form in his mind, before Aziraphale catches on and turns his head. All at once the angel stands up, grabs something from the chair next to him and rushes to her side. “Where in Heaven’s name did you find that old thing Sarah? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Here, go change into these while I see to your jumpsuit. You can’t possibly put your wet things back on now and that pathetic excuse for a robe certainly isn’t fit for anyone to wear ever again.” Before she can do more than stammer, he tugs her jumpsuit from her grip and shoves black satin pajamas and a plush bathrobe the exact color of the sky at midnight into her arms.

Sarah stares at them like he just handed her something completely unfamiliar. Slowly, she strokes the collar of the robe, hardly daring to imagine what it would be like to wear such a luxurious garment. Aziraphale shakes her gently. “Go on. Go put those things on in the bathroom and come back when you’re ready. We’re not going anywhere.”

With some effort, Crowley manages to nod in agreement. “Yes. Go on Sarah. I’m… I’m s..sorry I don’t have a nightgown for you. I hope the pajamas will be good enough.”

Too startled to argue, Sarah returns to the bathroom to change and comes back a few minutes later, her right hand absently stroking the plush sleeve of the robe.

Shaking his head to clear it, Crowley presses a cup of tea into her free hand and guides her to a well-worn armchair. Sarah sips the tea slowly, her eyes flickering from Aziraphale to Crowley and back again several times before Aziraphale manages to hold her gaze.

“What happened Sarah?”

“Oh Mr. Fell. I waited for two hours today to pick up that cake I ordered the day we met, you remember, dark chocolate, espresso, and raspberry cream.” Sarah licks her lips at the memory.

Aziraphale nods. Of course he remembers. “Call me Ezra please. Right, you picked up the cake today even if perhaps a little later than planned, but surely there must be something else. You look upset, my dear, and not about cake.”

Sarah smiles half-heartedly. “You’re right of course. I picked up the cake at a little past two, later than I planned but still not too late, and I took it home to surprise Noah.”

“Mmm hmm,” Aziraphale murmurs encouragingly, “You took it home to surprise Noah. I take it you were the one who was surprised…”

Sarah scowls. “I was surprised all right. I was expecting to find the house empty: Noah comes home precisely at 4 on Tuesdays. That was all right, I had plans. I was going to shower and put on this sweet little dress to welcome him, you know, for our last night together before the official wedding. And instead what do I find but Noah, in our bed, with two of what I thought were my best, my only, friends, humping away like a bunch of horny rabbits! In our bed, the night before our wedding, Ezra.” Hot tears pour down her cheeks and plop gently in her tea. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised, he’s always been a bit of a player and I suppose I did something to deserve it, but bugger me if I know what, I mean I know I’m not much of a looker, but did he really have to do it in our bed the day before we were supposed to say I do?”

Aziraphale gently pries the teacup from her fingers before she can drop it, sets it carefully on the floor, and takes both of her hands in his own.  
“Listen to me Sarah. You did nothing to deserve what that bastard did to you. You may not believe it now, but he’s the one with the problem, not you. You are a very attractive and sweet young woman. Any man would be lucky to have you in his life.”

“You’re sweet, Mr. uh, Ezra, but mirrors don’t lie. I know I’m not a sweet young thing any more. ”

Crowley moves Aziraphale aside gently and puts his hands firmly on Sarah’s shoulders, decidedly NOT thinking about the new sensations coursing through him as he touches his own favorite robe on someone else. “Nonsense Sarah. You are a very attractive young woman, and if Noah is too busy chasing tail to appreciate you, then we’ll just have to find you someone who does.”

“Noah is the one who gets catcalls when we’re out, not me. I’m tall and lanky, but not quite tall enough to be oh, what’s that word… statuesque or even graceful. I never did get to be what you’d call well-endowed either. I’m just sort of well, middling, and no one even notices me, not ever.”

“I noticed you.” Aziraphale says softly.

“I noticed you right away.” Crowley locks gazes with her. “Honestly, I did.”

“Not in that way, not romantically I mean, surely. Plain boring me can’t possibly have attracted that kind of attention from anyone, let alone two people, I mean, I just don’t. Noah was the only one who would ever even give me so much as a first glance, let alone a second.” 

Aziraphale bristles. “My my you are stubborn love. What makes you so sure we didn’t notice you in, as you put it, that way?”

“You mean, you think I’m pretty… , pretty enough to uh… go to bed with?” She asks almost hopefully, then blushes and looks down, clearly embarrassed and convinced she already knows the answer.

Crowley gives Aziraphale a quick wink, then lifts Sarah’s chin so he can lock eyes with her once more. “Sarah look at me.” She turns her head to avoid his gaze, and he gently but firmly turns it back. “No Sarah, LOOK at me. Do you think I’m attractive?”

Sarah nods, looking him up and down taking in his tight jeans and snug T-shirt, not quite sure where this is going, and unwilling even to admit to herself that it’s happening at all.

“I don’t think you’re pretty enough Sarah. I think you’re beautiful. Incredibly, impossibly, human and beautiful and strong, stronger than the pain and betrayal I can see you’re feeling right now. I don’t pretend to know why Noah chose to do what he did, but it was his choice, not yours. You didn’t do anything to make him betray you and you definitely don’t deserve to be treated that way. You do have a choice to make now though.”

Sarah’s eyes widen. “No I don’t. It’s not like I can just up and leave him. I wouldn’t even know where to start…”

A hint of a smile flickers across Crowley’s face, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appears. “Yes you do. You left. You came here on your own, and in spite of everything, even when you had to wait, you stayed. What did you do with that cake anyway? You certainly weren’t carrying anything when you arrived.”

Sarah laughs then, chortling at the memory in spite of herself. “I threw it at them. I was so mad in that moment that I didn’t stop to think or give him time to explain or ANYTHING, I just threw it at them. All that chocolate and cream and jam went everywhere I suppose.”

“See, Sarah, you DO know what to do. And when you don’t come back, who is going to have to either live with it or clean up the mess?”

Sarah claps her hand over her mouth then pulls it away. “Of course, Noah is. Even so, now what? Don’t tell me you moonlight as a barrister, Mr. Crowley. Even for this improbable day that’s a stretch.”

That makes it Crowley’s turn to laugh. “Now you’re getting it Sarah. No I don’t work as a barrister, not exactly, but I do know a few I could put you in touch with if you want, in the morning. There will be time enough for that tomorrow, for now, the most important thing is that you remember that whatever you choose to do with your life it is your choice to make, not mine, not Mr. Fell’s, and certainly not Noah’s. Do you understand what I’m saying?”


	3. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale, Crowley and Sarah enjoy pastries and discuss Sarah’s choices.

“I think so.” Sarah pauses, pinches herself to see if she’s dreaming, then stares at him incredulously, “Wait a minute, you just said in the morning didn’t you? As in tomorrow morning? Like I was going to be spending the night here, with you? The whole night?” Her voice trembles as if she doesn’t quite dare believe that what she’s saying can possibly be real.

“Yes Sarah the whole night. You are NOT going home to clean up after that bastard tonight unless you absolutely insist, but I hope you won’t. He made his bed, he can bloody well lie in it, and as for your so-called friends, forget about them, you have new friends now.”

“New friends.” Sarah rolls the words around her mouth slowly, experimentally, like she is trying them on for size. “Friends, I like the sound of that, real friends not like those backstabbing bitches I walked out on.”

“Real friends.” Aziraphale smiles beatifically and refills her teacup before handing it back to her and fetching a fresh one for himself. “Pastry?”

“Mmm. Anything but chocolate. Thank you.”

“Anything but chocolate…” Aziraphale echoes and begins to laugh, the kind of deep, full body belly laugh that can’t help but be infectious. First, Crowley joins him, then Sarah.

Several minutes later, their laughter spent for the moment, they fall silent. Crowley hands Sarah a magnificent glazed strawberry tart, presenting it formally with a bow as if he were offering high tea to a princess. 

Sarah smiles and lifts the tart to her lips, then stops just as she’s about to take a bite, and frowns at Crowley. “You _noticed_ me, you said, me? No offense, but I still don’t believe you. You’re… well, I bet you have dozens of people swooning over you all the time, why should you _notice_ boring old 30-something me?”

“Sarah! You insult me.” Crowley clasps his hands to his breast, playing up the drama to the max. “If I say I noticed you, then I _noticed_ you. I noticed you and Ezra noticed you.” 

Sarah laughs softly, “All right, all right, I get it, you noticed me, I still can’t even begin to imagine why, but you _noticed_ me. So? It’s all theoretical anyway, even if my marriage is all but over before it had a chance to really start, yours isn’t.” 

Aziraphale puts a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “We don’t exactly have a conventional marriage, Sarah.” He tousles Crowley’s hair playfully. “Yes, we _noticed_ you, both of us, in that way as you put it, independently, _noticed_ you. We think you’re beautiful.” 

Sarah starts to protest again, but Crowley quells her with a _look_. 

Aziraphale continues as if it never happened, as if there was never any interruption, “No, Sarah, let that sink in for a moment. You are beautiful. We’d like to show you just how beautiful, but what matters most, to both of us,” He winks at Crowley. “Is that you believe you’re beautiful, that you’re worth more than the paltry existence you’ve been used to.” 

“… with Noah.” Sarah finishes for him. 

She sighs. 

“What do you mean you want to show me I’m beautiful, Mr. Fell? Noah wasn’t much good at most things, but at least he was direct about what he wanted.” 

Crowley laughs. “She has you there partner.” He turns to Sarah. “I guess we are being a bit obtuse, but only because we didn’t want to go too fast, wanted to be sure you would be interested in, well, what we had to offer.” 

“But why? Why me, why now? It can’t be because I’m so irresistible, I know that’s not true, so why? Is this something you two do, like every Tuesday, hell I don’t know maybe you do it every day, just for kicks?” She stares hard at the two of them, searching, almost certain she won’t like the answer, but she needs to KNOW. 

“No!” They both shout in unison, and Crowley kisses Aziraphale, hard. “Hell no,” he says, “I don’t share my angel with just anyone.” He stares back at Sarah, daring her to challenge him on this point. 

“Then, why?” 

“Because you’re worth noticing Sarah. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. We can spend all night talking, playing cards, doing each other’s nails, watching whatever trash happens to be on the telly, having wild passionate sex. We’re offering you a temporary place to stay and a night to remember. As for what exactly that night entails, the choice is, well, yours.” 

“And then what?” 

“Then, my dear girl, you have an even bigger choice to make. You have to decide whether you can, whether you even want to, forgive Noah and start again, or whether you want something different for your life from now on.” 

“Oh.” Sarah chews her lower lip, absolutely sure she knows the ‘right’ answer and equally certain that it isn’t the one she wants to give. 

“Crowley?” 

“Yes, Ezra?” 

“Whatever Sarah decides, it is late and this has definitely become a sleepover, an unexpected party, one might say, and we are entirely inappropriately dressed for the occasion.” He tugs at his bowtie. “Would you keep our guest company while I, uh, slip into something a little more… appropriate?” 

Crowley chuckles. “Sure, Ezra, we’ll pick out some extra gaudy nail polish just for you.” 

Aziraphale groans theatrically and strolls toward the stairs. 

“Read to me?” 

Aziraphale whirls around to face them. “What did you say?” 

Sarah flushes, her eyes wide. “Read to me, please, when you get back?” 

Aziraphale glows. “I’d love to dear. That’s a perfect idea.” He starts up the stairs and calls over his shoulder, “Crowley love, why don’t you help her find something she’d like to hear?” The pillow Crowley throws misses him by inches. 

“What do you think I should choose?” 

“I don’t know Sarah, it depends. What kind of books do you enjoy?” 

“I wasn’t asking about books. I’ve seen Ezra around a lot, Mr. Crowley, helping people around the neighborhood, feeding the ducks, buying pastries. I’ve wanted to stop in here since we moved to the area a little less than a year ago, but somehow it’s never quite worked out. I wish it had. I wish I had met both of you sooner. There’s not something in particular I want to hear, so much as I want to hear him read something he loves while … while I figure things out.” 

“Just Crowley will be fine. I can understand wanting a little room to think.” Crowley pauses and really looks at her for a long moment. “Would you like me to see what’s keeping Ezra? Give you a little space to really breathe?” 

“Would you? I won’t mess things up or, or anything,” She sits up straight and waves a hand at the bookshelves. “Promise. I’ll just sit right here and think.” 

Crowley laughs. “This is a Bookshop, Sarah. Browse. Find something you’d like to read or have read to you. Ezra’s personal favorites for reading aloud are all in the shelves near the couch.” 

He climbs the stairs to the second floor, leaving Sarah completely alone with her thoughts. 


	4. Shakespeare and Snuggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley pamper Sarah with help from the immortal words of the Bard and Crowley’s nimble fingers.
> 
> “You want to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the quotation from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, any more than I own Good Omens, Aziraphale or Crowley.
> 
> I promise all this buildup is going somewhere soon.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> LuckyPenny36

“Having trouble picking out the appropriate outfit for a seduction, Angel?”

Aziraphale splutters, clearly flustered, as Crowley saunters in. “No, no, of course not, I’m just…”

“Just getting a head start on a little wardrobe makeover? Are you finally tired of all that tartan sweetheart?” Crowley waves a hand at the haphazard pile of tartan pajamas currently threatening to slide off the bed.

“Absolutely not, tartan is _stylish_.” Aziraphale pouts, then pulls the last set of pajamas from the wardrobe, a cuddly matched set in soft gray and heather green, tartan, of course. “I was just giving you time to guide Sarah to a suitably seductive story. Did you?”

Crowley beams at his angel. “That’s for me to know and you to discover.” One by one, he puts the discards back in the proper places in the wardrobe, snaps his fingers softly, and with a burst of demonic energy, his sleek jeans and snug t-shirt vanish, replaced by black silk pajamas, with delicate red satin piping along the lapels and AJC embroidered on the pocket. His hand hesitates for a moment, then with a burst of decision, he whips off his sunglasses revealing startling golden amber eyes whose pupils morph and slide from serpentine slits to softer more human orbs. 

With one last teasing kiss for his lover, Crowley returns downstairs, to see what Sarah has chosen, whether this is meant to be a simple girls’ night in or something more exotic. 

<>

Sarah gives a small gasp as he comes down the stairs and he grins just a little, knowing exactly what impression he’s making, and loving every minute of it. He takes his time with each step, both to give Aziraphale a few more precious moments to come to terms with the fact that this may actually be possibly might be really happening, and to give Sarah plenty of time to appreciate the view. 

He pauses at the bottom step. “Did you find something you’d like him to read?” 

“Mmm hmm.” She gestures vaguely in the direction of the armchair he guided her to earlier and he can see a small leather bound folio sitting neatly on the table beside it. 

“Ahh. Shakespeare, excellent choice. Not one of his tragedies I hope.” 

“No, no. While the bard is good at pathos, he is exquisitely excellent at humor, and I thought _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ would make a fitting selection to begin tonight’s revels. Do you have a brush I could use?” 

Crowley blinks at the sudden change, then smiles and slyly summons an elegant brush to his hand. “Nice choice Sarah, that’s one of Ezra’s favorites and certainly lends itself well to reading aloud. Would you let _me _brush your hair?” 

“You _want_ to?” 

“Of course, Sarah. It would be my pleasure. It will be at least a few minutes before Ezra _finally_ decides on an outfit and comes down to join us, let’s see what I can do about that lovely tangle of brown locks while we’re waiting.” 

Sarah twists the end of a strand between her fingers for a moment, thinking, then strides decisively over to the couch where Crowley joins her. After a few brief false starts, he begins to steadily stroke the brush through her hair, coaxing the strands to lay flat and smooth, then begins to twist and separate and _play_ with them, gently drawing them into an intricate, elegant pattern that leaves Sarah speechless, tingles running up and down her spine. Gingerly, she lifts her right hand and runs it over her head, again and again, marveling at the intricate twisting, lacy pattern he’s achieved in what seems like minutes. 

After letting her marvel for a minute or two, Crowley captures her hand in his own and gently brings it down by her side, coaxing her to relax as he strokes the loose curtain of hair that flows seamlessly out of the delicate twists to cascade down her back. 

<> 

And that’s where Aziraphale finds them when he finally finishes distracting himself with maybe preparations and comes down to see how things are going. Sarah is seated on the couch in front of Crowley, leaning back against the demon’s chest comfortably, her soft cinnamon brown hair shining in the soft light, the intricate twists falling gently over his shoulder, Crowley’s left hand resting unobtrusively on her side to maintain balance, his right alternating between stroking Sarah’s arm and twining through her hair. 

His heart melts. 

Then he sees the book Sarah put by the chair, and his heart leaps in familiar anticipation. Shakespeare, at least with the bard, he’s on familiar ground. Aziraphale settles in the chair comfortably and opens _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ turning the pages reverently, like greeting an old and cherished friend, until he finds the one he wants, beginning not at the beginning, but rather with the entrance of the irrepressible Puck at the beginning of Act II, Scene II. 

“How now, spirit! Whither wander you?  
Over hill, over dale,  
Thorough bush, thorough brier,  
Over park, over pale,  
Thorough flood, thorough fire,  
I do wander every where  
Swifter than the moon’s sphere;  
And I serve the fairy queen,  
To dew her orbs upon the green.” 

Sarah smiles and shifts a little, pulling the robe closer, and snuggles into Crowley to listen. 


	5. A Night to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah gets her wish as she, Aziraphale, and Crowley share a night to remember.
> 
> “Crowley my love, I do believe that was a yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change and Enjoy.
> 
> LuckyPenny36

“If we shadows have offended,  
Think but this, and all is mended,  
That you have but slumbered here  
While these visions did appear  
And this weak and idle theme,  
No more yielding but a dream,  
Gentles, do not reprehend:  
If you pardon, we will mend.  
And, as I’m an honest Puck,  
If we have unearned luck  
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,  
We will make amends ere long;  
Else the Puck a liar call:  
So, good night unto you all.  
Give me your hands, if we be friends,  
And Robin shall restore amends.”

Aziraphale pauses to let the last few lines of the beloved play linger in the darkened bookshop, then asks softly, “Sarah, what’s next?”

Sarah studies him for a moment, stands up, crosses the space slowly, gives him her best Puckish grin, and leans in to kiss him full on the lips. She still has no idea what to do about Noah, or what these two very different men see in _her_, but the opportunity to live out her fantasy, to have her bad boy and her teddy bear and at the _same time_, is just too good to miss.

Crowley smirks. “Does _that_ answer your question, Ezra?” He scoops Sarah into his arms and they head upstairs together with Aziraphale trailing close behind, pausing only to extinguish the reading lamp. 

And then somehow, Aziraphale is ahead of them, smoothing the covers on the bed, lighting a few discreet candles, carefully positioned to cast just enough light without truly banishing the shadows. Crowley grins at his angel wickedly and presses a warm, lingering kiss to Sarah’s lips before laying her gently down on top of the covers. She reaches for the waistband of her borrowed pajamas ready to assume the familiar position only to find Aziraphale’s hand covering hers, lifting it and pulling her gently forward until they are seated in the middle of the bed, side by side, equals. 

Softly, he lifts her hand to his lips, grazing each knuckle against them in turn, the warmth of his breath sending pleasant shivers down her spine. “Is this what you want, Sarah?” 

Suddenly breathless, she leans close, soft curling tendrils of hair brushing his cheek and whispers, “Yes Ezra, my wondrous new friend. I want this. I want…” 

Then Crowley is behind her, wrapping one long arm around her waist, whispering in her ear, “Yes, Sarah, beautiful, wonderful, amazing Sarah, you want…” 

“I want my adventure, my own night to remember always. I want to know,” she blushes as she presses his hand to her lips, “to know what I’ve been missing. If only for this one night, I want to feel beautiful and sexy and _wanted_.” Overcome with emotion, a single tear escapes her to fall against Crowley’s fingers. 

“Crowley my love, I do believe that was a yes.” Aziraphale’s arm stiffens ever so slowly, gently pushing her back into Crowley, who yields, leaning into the dark softness of the sheets, until she is laying almost on top of him, her hair spilling over his chest. Tenderly, Crowley reaches for the buttons of her shirt, pausing to stroke each patch of tender skin as it’s uncovered, until she is naked to the waist, glowing in the candlelight. Finally his hands come to rest on her breasts, her nipples already beginning to harden under his touch. Her eyes flutter softly then fly wide open, as Sarah sighs, arching her back ever so slightly, seeking still more warmth. 

Inch by slow inch, Aziraphale begins to shimmy up the bed, until he too is laying next to her, kissing her, teasingly, temptingly darting his tongue in and out between her teeth before pressing a hot trail of kisses down her cheek and the side of her throat to her breasts. Sarah lets out a small surprised “Oh!” as Crowley slides his hands downward to caress her stomach and Aziraphale begins to suck each nipple in turn, bringing her almost to the point of ecstasy, pulling back at the last moment to continue his slow progress… _down_. She whimpers at the loss of heat, then moans out loud as Aziraphale, reaching the waistband of her/Crowley’s pajamas, slides suddenly even further down the bed, taking the pjs with him. 

She can’t help herself, stretching toward him as hard as she can, she whimpers softly, “Come back, Ezra, please come back, please.” Instead, he looks her up and down, drinking in her radiance in the candlelight, as he reaches for his own pajamas, undoing button after button, in no particular hurry, before allowing the tartan flannel to drop, unnoticed, in a puddle on the floor. 

Crowley brushes his fingers back and forth across her nipples once more, eliciting another small “Oh!” from Sarah, even as Aziraphale begins his slow progress again _up this time_, from her toes, to her knees (he is exquisitely careful not to tickle…too much), to the soft inside of her thighs. Tenderly, he flicks his tongue against her, exploring her most intimate, secret places, and sending a delicious shiver _all_ the way up Sarah’s spine with each new discovery. Just as he sits up to carefully smooth a rubber into place, she flips over, presenting him suddenly with her soft, round bottom, and reaches for Crowley’s shirt. Smoothly, leaving the rubber in place, he shimmies up beside her and, tangling his hands in his lover’s hair, coos at Crowley, “You’re the one who’s a bit overdressed now love.” 

Together they fumble at Crowley’s buttons, pushing silk aside roughly to fall on the floor, mingling with discarded satin. Then Sarah begins to shimmy down, sliding and slipping beneath Aziraphale until she reaches Crowley’s crotch, nuzzling him briefly through the fabric, encouraging him to arch his back, before removing the thin barrier with one smooth tug and planting a single kiss right on the very tip of his erect cock. She cradles his balls in her free hand for a moment, then begins stroking and kissing him alternately, before finally taking hold of him and settling into a slow, steady rhythm. 

Crowley _moans_. 

Trailing his hands through the demon’s hair, Aziraphale pulls him in hot and hard, swallowing his lover’s cries deep, tasting the demon’s fervor, his arousal. He nibbles on Crowley’s lip, trailing passionate kisses across to his ear and down his throat to his chest, before re-capturing his mouth. Crowley returns the kiss hungrily, crushing his lips against the angel’s, devouring. All the time, Aziraphale is stroking and tugging at the demon’s hair, eliciting more and more shrieks and moans. 

Reluctantly releasing the fiery locks, he reaches down to draw Sarah further into their embrace. She releases her grip on Crowley, trailing her hands across his stomach, twisting and sliding up until she is sandwiched between them, and reaches for Aziraphale’s erect cock. With agonizing slowness, she draws him closer, shifting against Crowley, who emits a soft, surprised sound at the withdrawal of so much friction, snuggling further into her back, grinding against her. Tenderly, deliberately, she slides the rubber from Aziraphale, wraps her fingers around his cock and slips down to draw it to her mouth, licking and sucking until finally she hollows her cheeks just a fraction more and takes him all the way. 

Aziraphale gasps. 

Crowley catches the angel’s eye with a wicked grin and slithers down the bed, stroking Sarah’s back and bottom before oh so slowly encouraging her legs to part and slipping first one, then two fingers inside. Sarah gives a muffled moan, still deeply engrossed in sucking off Aziraphale, as Crowley’s thumb strokes her gently, then rotates in slow circles against her clit, which throbs and pulses to the rhythm of her rapidly quickening heartbeat. 

Carefully, Crowley and Aziraphale maneuver Sarah onto her back as Aziraphale slips his cock from her mouth and slides down next to her, all while Crowley’s fingers continue their slow seductive dance between her legs. 

Sarah moans again and cries out, her breath coming in harsh gasps, as she bucks against his hand. _“Yes, yes, oh yesssssss… Oh, please, oh, my …yes!”_

_“Yesss, Sarah?”_ Crowley leans forward, hissing softly, _“You want… more?”_

She bucks hard against his hand one more time and falls back into the sheets, panting. _“Oh, yes, yes, more, more, it is soooooo good.”_ She reaches up and draws a slightly surprised Aziraphale in for yet another fervent kiss, then whimpers softly into his mouth as Crowley slides his fingers out. He scoots quickly up the bed and lays down beside her, using his free hand to stroke her breast. “Beautiful Sarah.” 

Aziraphale murmurs agreement and draws her closer, “Mm, beautiful Sarah, definitely worth _noticing_, and not at all middling.” He trails his fingers through her hair and kisses her tenderly, sensually, as if savoring the very taste of her lips, while Crowley continues stroking and fondling her breasts and belly. Sarah wriggles. 

Gently, Aziraphale shifts his weight, enveloping her, and she leans back into Crowley’s embrace, her legs parting ever so slightly, inviting. Sliding a hand down to the small of her back, Aziraphale slips between her thighs and enters her. Sarah moans and wraps her legs around him, drawing him in all the way, as he slowly begins thrusting, in and out, in and out, never quite separating fully, always coming back for more. 

After a few moments, from behind her back, Crowley whispers, his hot breath on her neck, “Still want more, Sarah?” 

“More?” She turns her head to stare at him in disbelief, her eyes wide. 

Pressing tender kisses at the nape of her neck, he whispers, “Yes, beautiful, princess Sarah, more, but only, only if YOU want me to.” 

Unable to speak, she nods. 

“You’re sure?” 

Another nod, harder this time. 

“Ok. Roll into Ezra, love, I’ll only be a moment.” 

Aziraphale draws Sarah close and kisses her, slowing but never quite stopping, as Crowley enters her from behind. 

“Oh fuck… Ezra!” Sarah cries out, her eyes growing huge in the flickering light as one by one the candles burn low. 

Aziraphale freezes. “Is it too much, love? Should we stop?” 

“Oh God, oh fuck, NO!” She grabs Aziraphale’s head and pulls him closer, kissing him fiercely, and he resumes thrusting. 

A few moments later, with a tenderness that makes even Crowley’s fallen heart skip a beat, Aziraphale lifts Sarah gently off the demon, and lays down beside her. Completely, blissfully spent, Crowley snuggles up to Sarah, sliding a protective arm around her waist, and they slip into an exhausted sleep, their heads resting side-by-side on the angel’s chest. 

Aziraphale beams. 

Summoning soft, fluffy blankets and his favorite book, he stretches, arranges the blankets deftly, extinguishes all but the nearest candle, and settles in for what remains of the night. 


	6. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Aziraphale then Sarah share some surprises with Crowley.
> 
> “Leave it to me Angel. You never were good at devious.”
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> LuckyPenny36

Waking a little more than an hour later, Crowley shifts, and Sarah, still asleep, mews softly, and snuggles closer. Crowley strokes her belly absently, smiling at the soft blanket he knows wasn’t there earlier, and looks up at his angel. “Quite a night.” 

Aziraphale smiles. “Indeed. You were amazing, love.”

Crowley laughs softly. “I just followed your lead, Angel. You orchestrated the masterpiece.”

Aziraphale blushes. “I almost didn’t. Who would have thought she’d be so _feisty_? Flipping over like that.”

“Talk about feisty,” he pauses, “wait a minute, we did use rubbers, right? Right, Angel?”

Aziraphale shrugs. “She’s pregnant you know.”

“What?”

“Mmm. Twins.”

“Does she know?”

“Almost certainly not. The Jerk is the father of course, but if just that little seed of reasonable doubt helps her through the next few years, well, I thought it was worth the chance.”

“Worth the chance, I see. And what about those years, Angel, what if Noah has doubts about supporting his maybe boys, what then?”

“He has no intention of supporting her, Crowley, he was never going to be a proper husband, let alone father. We’ll just have to come up with something.”

“I see. I thought this was just supposed to be a one night thing Angel. You’re not thinking of starting a home for unwed mothers in the bookshop now?”

“No, no, no. I just thought we could come up with a suitably devious way to get her the support she needs, without tying her to that miserable son of a bitch for life.”

Crowley pulls Sarah closer. She wiggles a little, then shifts her weight to snuggle up even tighter against his chest.

Crowley yawns, stretches backward, and kisses Aziraphale softly. “Leave it to me Angel. You never were good at devious.”

<>

A little after dawn, Sarah whimpers, softly at first, then louder and louder, finally outright sobbing into the pillow she has clutched to her chest. Crowley can hear Aziraphale humming softly and making delicious sounds in the kitchen. Any moment now, there will be the hiss of crepe batter meeting hot steel. He’s on his own for this one.

“Sarah, honey, are you awake?” He keeps his voice soft, his right hand moving in soothing circles against her back.

She nods and mumbles into the pillow. “Hhhld mmph.”

“I didn’t quite catch that Sarah. Did you need something?”

Louder sobs from the pillow.

“Sarah, princess, what’s wrong? Was last night _that_ bad?”

Clearly startled, a small wry laugh escapes Sarah, as she flips over and stares at him, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks stained with tears. “Last night was so much better than my wildest dreams, but this was supposed to be my fucking wedding day, Crowley, the ‘happiest’ day of my life, except that’s all gone now, so would you please just fucking hold me for a while…” Her voice trails off. 

Crowley suppresses a smile, holding his arms open wide. Sarah dives into them all in a rush, like a small animal going to ground, clinging to him closer than a second skin and nestling her head just below his chin. Crowley strokes her hair tenderly, grateful that Aziraphale is too busy in the kitchen to witness this. 

“May I braid your hair?” Sarah lifts her head and bats her eyelashes at Crowley. “Please? You’ve done such wonderful things with mine…” 

Crowley smiles, thinks for the briefest of moments, and nods. “There’s a brush on the nightstand if you need it.” He scoots forward as Sarah wriggles in behind him, stretching out with her left hand to snag the brush as she does. 

Several minutes later, Crowley’s hair is smooth and shining, intricate twisting braids framing his face, and Sarah slips under his arm, feathers a soft kiss against his cheek, and snuggles into his side once more. “Thank you.” 

“Truly, Sarah, it was a pleasure. You are beautiful. No matter what happens, never, ever, doubt that again.” 

She stretches up and kisses him tenderly, almost regretfully, and whispers, “I won’t ever forget what you’ve shown me.” 

Crowley gasps softly as she begins to stroke him with intent. “Sarah?” 

She reaches up with one long arm, puts a single finger to his lips, “Please, I want this, _this reprise_. Last night was about passion, about learning to fly again. This is about tenderness, about gratitude.” As the last word hangs in the air between them, she kisses Crowley again and slides _down_ onto him, straddling him, moving her hips in long slow strokes. 

Crowley can smell the warm scent of crepes and the sweet tang of fresh berries on the air, hear his angel humming contentedly. He pulls Sarah close and rolls them both over, kissing her hard, thrusting deep into her, again and again, swallowing her surprised cry of pleasure as he rocks her world yet again. 

Overcome by waves of sensation, Sarah slides from him, satiated once more. Crowley reclaims their pajamas from the floor, dressing smoothly before gently but firmly wrapping Sarah in a robe, and snuggling back in next to her, just as Aziraphale shoulders the door open and enters, balancing a full breakfast tray. 


	7. New Day, New Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale turn their attention to launching Sarah on a new adventure with a little help from a mobile phone, a truly demonic miracle shopping spree and of course... crepes.
> 
> “Selfridges and dinner at the Ritz? My flight? I thought that was cancelled…”

“Mmmm. That smells amazing. You’ve outdone yourself, love.” Crowley sits up, sliding an arm behind Sarah, “Princess, Ezra’s gone and brought us brunch in bed, crepes and fruit and fresh squeezed orange juice…”

Sarah’s eyes fly open and she sits bolt upright, her mouth watering, “You had me at crepes. I’m starving anyway, but I LOVE crepes.”

Aziraphale laughs, and passes her a heaping plate.

The rest of the morning passes quickly in a swirl of berries and laughter. They paint each others’ fingers and toes in all the colors of the rainbow, tell bad jokes, and have a grand time in each other’s company. It isn’t until Crowley’s phone buzzes softly from the dresser that Sarah even realizes she has no idea where she left hers. (1)

“Ezra?”

Aziraphale’s heart jumps to his throat. It’s all been going so well. Sarah’s been relaxed in their company, laughing even, and confident. He hates seeing that light in her eyes fading, even a little bit. Swallowing hard, he looks up, “Yes, Sarah, what is it?”

“Did you find my phone when you cleaned my jumpsuit yesterday?”

Her phone, of course. Aziraphale almost laughs from sheer release of tension. He’s been listening for her cursed phone all morning, but it hasn’t buzzed at all, not even once. “Oh yes. Sorry about that. It’s right here.” He scoops it off the bedside table and hands it over, along with her neatly folded jumpsuit. “I haven’t heard it ring. Were you expecting a call?”

Sarah shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe. You’d think by now somebody would be looking for me. Maybe not Noah, or my ex-bridesmaids, but somebody…” She taps the screen a few times, scowls, and shoves it at Crowley. “Does that say what I think it does?”

“They’re confirming your cancellation, Sarah. They’re even refunding most of your deposit because they were able to re-book the venue in time. There are similar messages from your caterer, your florist, and a couple guests. Nothing from the travel agent yet, but that’s not unusual. What’s wrong?” He tries to hand the phone back to her, but she pushes it away, and buries her face in a pillow.

Aziraphale reaches for the phone, sighing then scowling fiercely as he scrolls through the e-mail app on the screen. “What’s wrong, Crowley love, is the timing. All of these messages are from yesterday morning – BEFORE Sarah walked in on Noah the Bastard’s love festival. Which means she didn’t request the cancellations, he did. She may have been planning to marry him today, but from the looks of it, he had no intention of making even a token attempt at following through on his commitments.”

Pacing to and fro, Crowley growls, low in his throat and menacing, then stops abruptly, walks back to the bed and begins rubbing Sarah’s back. “Listen to me, Princess, this doesn’t change anything. That two-timing bastard has no place in your new life. YOU get to decide for yourself what that new life looks like. Starting now. So you better get dressed, hon.” He spins her around to face him, “ You and I are going shopping.”

Sarah looks at him, a hesitant smile on her face. “Shopping, you’re taking me shopping? Where?”

“Anywhere you want. My treat. It’s time you get started on your new life, and a new wardrobe seems a fine way to begin.”

“A new wardrobe?” Sarah blinks and stares at Crowley. “Not just shopping, a whole new wardrobe from anywhere I want?”

Crowley smiles. “Yes Princess, anywhere you want.”

“Even Selfridges…” Sarah sighs wistfully. “Really?”

Aziraphale giggles. “Sarah. Sweetheart. Crowley LOVES shopping. He absolutely worships Selfridges.” He points a finger at her jumpsuit. “Now get dressed and get out of here you two, I have phone calls to make.”

Sarah blinks. “You’re not coming?”

Aziraphale smiles and shakes his head.

“Aw, c’mon Angel. The phone calls can wait… come with us.”

Aziraphale sighs. “I’d like nothing better, but I really can’t. Go, have a good time. I’ll meet you for a light dinner at the Ritz before your flight.”

Sarah’s eyes flicker back and forth between Crowley and Aziraphale. “Selfridges and dinner at the Ritz? My flight? I thought that was cancelled…” 

Crowley grins. “Your wedding was cancelled – the venue, the caterer, the flowers, but not the non-refundable honeymoon trip to Lanai. C’mon Sarah, let’s get you ready for your next adventure.”

Aziraphale pulls Crowley aside while Sarah scrambles into her jumpsuit and underthings. “Are you sure? This is rather more _involved_ than we discussed yesterday.”

Crowley flashes him a wicked grin. “Of course Angel, I’ll send you _my_ bill… later.” He tousles Aziraphale’s wild blond curls and steps back. “See you at the Ritz at 5 o’clock sharp. Ready Sarah?”

Sarah nods and bounces off the bed, unable to contain her excitement and eager now to start putting Noah behind her once and for all.

Aziraphale smiles, then frowns, his brow creasing lightly. “Are you taking the Bentley, Crowley dear?”

Crowley laughs. “Of course we’re taking the Bentley. What did you think we were going to do, waste valuable shopping time walking? Or maybe cram ourselves and our purchases into a couple seats on the Metro?”

Aziraphale sighs, passing a small silvery card to the demon. “Hold on tight, Sarah.”

(1) It’s one of the many wrong numbers Crowley receives ever since he took down all the mobile networks that one time, almost as if the mobile phone system itself were getting a twisted form of revenge.


End file.
